


Nightmare

by ghoullly



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Nightmares, Woah it's another Mud-Noodle fanfic from me what a surprise wrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 23:19:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12156843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoullly/pseuds/ghoullly
Summary: Murdoc is shaken awake by the 7-year-old girl that they had taken in only a week before, and she's in a fit of tears; the only problem? The language barrier.





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> I love headcanoning that On Melancholy Hill was Noodle's lullaby that happened to make it on the album, so I wrote this as a sort of cooldown from all my summer work!!

Murdoc drew the curtains with a hiss, finding himself actually tired whether or not he wanted to admit it. Grumbling to himself, he began to shut all of the living room lights off and unplug any appliances running to save money on their godawful electric bill.

Motherfuckers.

It would’ve been nice of that fucking Dents and Russel to tell him that they had plans to pick up groceries at 9 at night. He had been planning on heading out to the bar around 10, but with those plans shot, he found himself so pissed that he figured it would be better to just go to bed to sleep the anger off. Trapped at home on a Friday night? What a joke.

Flicking off the living room light and climbing the staircase, he caught himself momentarily thinking about how he could just leave the newest member behind. She’d only been with them a week or two. She was asleep anyway and the other two would probably be home in two hours at most--she could handle being alone that long, right?

...Then again, they lived in an old morgue with a yard full of zombies. Little thing was only 8; she’d have no idea what to do if one got into Kong. Better to just sleep the night away; get a few extra hours.

His acceptance didn’t do much to hinder his disgust at being held inside his own house against his will. Brushing his teeth and preparing for bed, he hissed under his breath and told himself that those two would really hear it in the morning. Nobody got in between Murdoc Niccals’ Friday night bar crawls.

Turning off his own light, he wedged himself into his sheets, thrashing around in a quiet hissy fit as he tried to get comfortable. That little girl was a cute thing, with a contagious smile and an endearing curiosity in everything around her, but the language barrier a bit difficult to break through sometimes. They all had bought English-Japanese dictionaries (with one for her as well) in an attempt to begin to understand her. They hadn’t really begun writing songs yet; whenever they did, they definitely wanted her to sing backup, so she’d have to learn the lyrics somehow. 

...He should probably check on her. He didn’t trust her yet--what if she was hoarding weapons or something to murder them all, or found any of their drugs, or was lighting matches or something? He couldn’t have anybody dead before the fun began. Then his band would be nothing; he was getting  _ so  _ close to getting what he’d waited his whole life for. The little brat couldn’t steal that away, now could she?

He pulled himself out of bed and brought himself into the hallway, navigating the maze. His bare feet shuffled quietly along the carpets until he reached Noodle’s room, which may or may not had originally been Paula’s room. Oh well. Good riddance, he guessed, even though he refused to admit out loud that he was just as much at fault.

Twisting the doorknob slowly to avoid making noise, he nudged the door open, poking his head inside. Boxes of unassembled bookcases and dressers and things of the like sat against the wall, not yet gotten to. Her toys were hastily opened, though, and were scattered across the room in such a mess that it was as if a hurricane tore through. Murdoc rolled his eyes at the scene, noting to himself not to come into her room until somebody else cleaned it up; he wasn’t about to be suckered into doing it himself.

The newest addition to Gorillaz (the ‘z’ onto their name, they decided) was pretty much in a blanket burrito--her tiny hands gripped onto a stuffed monkey, which was her favorite; the first time she ever went out with them, 2D had bought it for her and she never slept without it since. Her body rose and fell as she drooled innocently onto her pillow, cheeks squished against the cotton. Russel must’ve put her to bed before he left. Deciding this was enough reassurance, Murdoc sniffed and closed her door again, leaving her be.

Things were weird with a 7-year-old girl around. Nobody could just scratch their balls whenever they pleased, and it was nearly impossible to brag about shags at any given moment. Instead they had to watch morning cartoons and do her hair and help her brush her teeth and it was pretty much like having a child. Like what the fuck was this,  _ Full House? _

The floorboards under the carpets creaked as he squinted through the dark, navigating the way back to his room. At least she was talented. He’d never heard anybody shred like that before; Noodle made Paula look like a beginner, and she’d been playing since she was 4. He’d never thought to look at the return address on that Fed-Ex box.  _ Was  _ there a return address? He’d have to look sometime; just curious as all.

He let out a sigh, throwing himself on his bed again. His eyelids were lead. Murdoc ran a hand through his hair, worming underneath the sheets again. This really wasn’t very important; he could think about things like this in the morning... after he finished chewing the other dolts out.

Closing his eyes, he found it a lot easier to drift to sleep when alcohol wasn’t fresh in his system. His room was comfortably dark and his bed was warm. It was rare that he found himself at peace like this, and he slowly stopped feeling as hostile towards his bandmates, anticipating the whopping 8 hours of sleep he was about to get as opposed to his usual 3.

As the minutes ticked by, his mind began to quiet down, his body heavier on his mattress until he found himself under.

He wasn’t sure how many hours he’d gotten before he was being roughly shaken by tiny hands.

Murdoc’s heart nearly burst through his ribs at the shock, snorting awake and mismatched eyes wide, his veins pumping adrenaline as he struggled to sit up. Through the dark, he could make out the shape of little Noodle, snot dripping down her face with blobby tears spilling down her cheeks. She cried and wiped at her face with the sleeves of her pajamas.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Murdoc barked in urgency, shoving his hand under his pillow and swinging a leg off his bed in preparation to jump up. When Noodle sniffled and crawled up onto his bed in no real hurry--and an inhumanly quick scanning of her body found no injuries--he let go of the revolver under his pillow. Nobody was hurt and there was no immediate danger. Nothing was wrong.

“What’s wrong, Noodle?” He winced in uncomfortableness when she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. Unsure of how to approach this, he awkwardly brought a hand up to pat her back, her short black hair a tangled mess. She sobbed a string of Japanese into his clothes, and he felt a pang of guilt that he couldn’t understand her. Feeling a bit more sympathetic, he gently nudged on her shoulders, gripping them and pulling her off, looking her in the eyes.

“Erm... are you hungry...?” He asked, forced smile awkwardly across his face. Noodle knew words such as those, which was great, because it helped resolve problems fairly quickly. The girl’s lip trembled and she shook her head, a few more sobs escaping between her lips.

Murdoc frowned. “Do you miss 2D and Russel?”

Noodle just kind of looked at him distantly, signaling that she really didn’t know what he meant. He repeated, “2D and Russel?” When nothing happened again, he scratched that off his list.

Noodle started back up again and he let her latch onto him, grabbing fistfuls of his nightshirt and wriggling into his arms. He sighed, rubbing the back of her head carefully as if she were made of porcelain and he would break her if he wasn’t cautious. The way she had imprinted on him was too... ‘parental’ for his liking, but was he supposed to tell her stop it? He had signed up for a band, not a child. If he wanted kids, he could’ve had one by now. (Which he didn’t--kids were a pain in the ass and he was scared he’d be just like his dad if he tried to raise one.) He had no idea how to be anything like a dad, and Noodle was making this really hard by forcing him to figure it out quickly. He didn’t want to figure it out at  _ all.  _

“Now, there, chick, no need for that,” he cooed quietly, wrapping both arms around her, resting his chin on the crown of her head. Murdoc cursed the language barrier, wishing he could at least guess what was wrong with her. He let her cry a few minutes longer before he patted her back, at a dead end as of what to do.

“Let’s go back to bed, okay?” He swung his tan legs over the side of his bed, pulling away from the girl to try and get her to let go of him. Instead she clung tighter, warm tears wetting the skin of his neck. 

“Come on, little one, off to bed you go.” Murdoc patted her back again, a bit harder than before, in hopes to budge her, but Noodle let out a whine and dug her face into his shoulder. He sighed tiredly, fishing a hand under her knees and another behind her back, prying her off of him. She squeezed her fingers at him in the space he’d put between them, blabbering in Japanese. He scooped her up and stumbled off of his bed, bones cracking at the sudden weight (which earned a groan out of him; he wasn’t even old). Dragging his heels, he slowly walked the girl back to her bedroom, her hiccups beginning to subside and her body heavier in his arms. A quick glance down found her chubby face shoved into his shirt, chocolate eyes wet with tears, looking around in curiosity at the hallways around her. Murdoc’s hand rubbed and patted against the middle of her spine, but every time he did it, he felt more and more awkward. He wasn’t gonna be able to do this all the time. He felt so weird. This wasn’t him. 

Noodle’s door was wide open, her bedsheets haphazardly tossed across her bed from where she had hurriedly leapt out of bed in pursuit of the one guardian she knew was home. Her stuffed bunny laid on the floor, abandoned in favor of something with warm skin and a heartbeat and a means to protect her.

The bassist grumbled under his breath at the mess as he stepped around it, careful not to connect his foot to a Lego brick or Matchbox car. (He had stepped on both of those at least once since Noodle had moved in--that shit  _ hurt _ . Usually it was because 2D forgot to put them away after playing with the girl. Fucker.) Weaving his way through the maze, he finally reached her bed and gently laid the little girl back down, picking her bunny back up and wedging it under her arm. She sniffled, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Murdoc frowned. Somehow, in  _ some  _ way, the sight of her upsetness was making him nauseous. He didn’t know why. She was just a nuisance anyway; as long as he slept fine, who cared if she did?

...Now that he thought about it, that was a really mean concept. Noodle was practically a baby--none of them could understand her and she was too small and inexperienced in world issues and ideas to fend for herself. He needed to make sure she fell asleep or else he wouldn’t be able to himself.

“Noodle, relax, it’s fine,” Murdoc pet her hair just by her forehead, the little girl’s lip quaking and skin growing clammy as she began to sob again. “What’s wrong?”

The girl propped herself up on her elbow, pointing across the room with a childish mix between a grunt and a whine. He followed her direction, his eyes finding the box of crayons strewn across her dresser along with the sketchbook. He was more than familiar with this--stretching out his legs and dodging the mess for the third time, he grabbed a fistful of crayons and the book, returning to her. The hysterical little girl sniffled, and Murdoc shakily ran a finger under her eye to stop a tear, wiping it on his pants with a shudder immediately after. Little hands flipped the book open to a blank page--white knuckled around a black crayon--and her trembling clutch created squiggly lines across the paper.

Murdoc watched quietly with a hand on her upper back as she cried, drawing out a scene in front of them. They had already gone through two other sketchbooks since Noodle had arrived, figuring this was a good last-ditch effort of interpretation when their Japanese-English dictionaries weren’t working out. Tears dripped onto the paper and warped it in tiny oblong shapes, smearing the crayon slightly. Eventually, she finished her drawing, pushing it front of her and balling her hands to her chest, breathing heavy and absentmindedly leaning into Murdoc for protection. The man squinted through the dark, trying to adjust his eyes to interpret her scribbles.

Four stick figures huddled in the corner of the paper, frowns on their faces and little black dots for tears on the face of the smallest. The stick figure with wild hair that stuck out on all ends was armed with what appeared to be a bat, while the other two--one with a red speck for an eye and the other wearing a hat?--stood protectively in front of the crying figure. A horde of... zombies, yes, those were zombies--outnumbered them on the outskirts of the page, mouths dripping with blood and angry faces pasted on. 

Murdoc’s mouth opened, his hand mindlessly moving to the girl’s back in support.  _ She had a nightmare. _

Noodle cried out again, squirming up into his lap, and Murdoc understood now. Smiling pitifully, he rocked her, shushing her gently as he let her wail. What an innocent little nightmare. The sound of her pained little voice made his heart ache; something deep within him sent orders to his brain to tighten his arms around her. 

This little girl had been doorstepped to him--addressed to him  _ specifically _ \--and she had already found trust and protection in his presence; that was pretty damn special.

He pried her off of him, though, nudging her to lay down.

“It’s alright, love, it was just a bad dream,” he cooed, petting her hair while reaching for her blankets, “Everybody’s fine. Rus and 2D will be home in a little bit; no zombies have gotten them.” Now  _ that  _ he didn’t know for sure, but it was best to give her benefit of the doubt.

“Toochie...?” Noodle hiccuped, recognizing the name in the otherwise-foreign sentence. 

“Yes, yes, and Russel,” Murdoc nodded, pulling the quilt over her, patting her arm from above the covers. Noodle’s chin was dimpled as she gave him sad eyes, reaching out for him. He winced, unsure of what to do--she was already in bed, what more did she want? Leaning down, he let the girl hug him, patting a nervous hand against her shoulder, feeling her tears soak his skin.

“Just relax, Noodle,” he whispered, his cheek against hers, getting the hang of this bit by bit. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

She mumbled out a string of Japanese he didn’t understand most of, but picked up “Murdoc” and “afraid”. 

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” Murdoc shook his head, the little girl crying less, “It was just a dream. You’re safe.”

He sat there uncomfortably leant over for a while, letting Noodle press her cheek on his to create contact, but the girl wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down anytime soon. Rain gently pattered on her window as he thought of what to do; it was probably late, so why weren’t the other two home yet? He was gonna have to kick their asses when he saw them again.

His arm was beginning to go numb from the way he was sitting. Softly leaning away, he adjusted the way he was sitting, smiling softly down at the sniffling girl. Noodle balled a fist and rubbed at her eye, hiccuping just loud enough to barely be heard over the rain. Murdoc pulled his hands to his lap, looking down at their guitarist, thinking of what to do.

“Do you want a glass of water?” he asked.

Murdoc watched the girl slowly process what was said to her, who then shook her head no.

“Are you sure you aren’t hungry?”

Noodle’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, which was admittedly adorable to see with her puffy eyes and salt-stained cheeks. She clicked her tongue, her nose stuffed and voice shaky.

“No hunger,” she replied.

Murdoc ‘hmph’ed and sat there for a minute, focusing on the rain outside. His hand toyed with Noodle’s hair in an awkward attempt to calm her, fingers intertwining in the strands and combing through. Noodle had just about stopped crying now (which was good, he figured, he had to have been doing  _ something _ right) and was leaning her head into his palm, curling up into a ball.

At first he thought he was in the clear, but when he heard her breath hitch, he realized she was still upset.

“No, no, Noodle,” he rubbed her back again, eyelids growing heavy again. This was tough fucking work. “Relax, sweet, you’re safe.”

He wasn’t sure what compelled him to do it. Maybe it was the melody that rang into his head that very second. Or maybe it was just the desperation to get back to bed. Either way, he found his voice--a type of voice he hadn’t used for years; not since his old bands.

“ _ Up on Melancholy Hill, there’s a plastic tree...” _

Noodle, never having heard the dark, pessimistic man sing, lifted her head immediately. Her eyes twinkled with wet tears, a stray one rolling down her flushed cheek.

Murdoc put his tongue in his cheek, unsure of what the next lyric could be. Lullabies were never his thing.

“... _ Are you here with me...?” _

He chuckled to himself at the ridiculousness of the line--of course she was--but she watched quietly in wonder anyway, resting her head against his thigh. Realizing he was getting somewhere with this, he cleared his throat, pondering quickly for the next lyric.

“ _ Just looking out on the day of another dream,” _

Noodle closed her eyes, trying to even her breath. Her cheek was still firmly pressed against his leg, bringing a hand up to rest on his thigh as well.

_ “Where you can’t get what you want...”  _ Rain filled the silence for a few moments. “ _...But you can get me...” _

Noodle felt that his speaking voice was far different from his singing voice. His speaking voice was harsh and heavy; he could make you feel like you were in trouble even if you weren’t just by his tone. But his singing voice was velvety and smooth, careful and calm as to not break her. This Murdoc was gentle--the small girl wasn’t used to this. She let him lull him closer to sleep, sighing through her nose at relief of the protection. Murdoc shifted, hand on her back.

“ _ So let’s set out to sea, love...” _

Murdoc felt an emotion swell in his chest as Noodle laid still, her tears having subsided and instead drying on the fabric of her pajamas. Was it pride? Relief? Love? He had no idea. Maybe it was all three; whatever it was, it was foreign. For the first time since she had arrived, the Satanist felt truly compelled to protect the little girl. 

_ “‘Cause you are my medicine when you’re close to me...” _

He slowly scooted away from her, resting her chin in his palm and letting it down gently on the mattress, combing through her hair with his fingers one last time.

_ “When you’re close to me.” _

He sat in silence for a minute, studying Noodle as she breathed softly, tiny fingers wrapped around her bunny. She really did seem calm now, her sketchbook and crayons scattered haphazardly across her tousled quilt, forgotten about in favor of her guardian’s lullaby. Body curled in on itself, her chubby cheeks squished her eyes and were bright red from crying for so long. 

Murdoc sighed, relieved he could finally get her to sleep. Cautiously standing up, he reached over the girl to grab the art tools, floating over to her desk to put them back where they belonged. Turning around to catch one last glance of the curious new member of their weird little family, he smiled, shuffling out. He put his hand on the doorknob and slipped his body outside.

“ _ Matte, matte!” _

He flicked his eyes back over to her bed, where she had propped herself up on her elbow, frowning at the door with her lip quivering. Murdoc’s stomach fell; he just wanted to sleep.

“What is it, love?” he whispered gently through the dark.

Noodle’s eyes blinked with tears, and she laid back on her pillow, sniffling.

“Do...” she pondered for the right words, furrowing her brow; Murdoc started to get an idea of what she was getting at, and he stepped towards her, gauging her reaction to see if he was correct. “Please do not,” she finally forced out--it was very rough English, but she got her point across. Murdoc sighed, supposing being away from his bed for one night wouldn’t hurt anything.

“Alright, alright, chick, I won’t,” he shrugged, Noodle making room so he could lay on top of the covers, eyes growing heavy. He scooted on, wriggling his back against the blankets to get comfortable. A spare blanket Russel had bought her in preparation for winter sat balled up at the foot of the bed; he grabbed it and draped it across himself, covering Noodle in the process as well. Staring up at the ceiling, he breathed out his broken nose, resting his head on the girl’s when she snuggled up to his side, closing his eyes. His hands lay folded across his stomach, the position wildly uncomfortable but he didn’t want to adjust as to not stir the guitarist. Noodle smiled, reaching an arm out from under the quilt to wrap around one of his, the cross tattoo warm against her cheek. 

“Good night, Noodle,” he said, his voice fragile with fatigue.

“Good night, Murdoc,” she echoed, her voice muffled into his skin.

Though it was a bit harder, Murdoc managed to fall asleep this way--body straight as a board, limbs having gone numb from their awkward positions, the girl drooling dangerously close to him.

He was stirred again hours later, and he squinted at the light--orange sunshine crept in through her windows, illuminating the room. The two of them had slept through the night without waking once; hell, she was still asleep, cuddled up against him, stuffed bunny abandoned once more.

Russel stood over him, arms crossed and an amused smirk across his face.

Murdoc quickly turned red in embarrassment, yet didn’t move so he didn’t risk waking the exhausted little girl. “Wait, Russ--”

“--Nah, nah, man, you don’t gotta explain anything to me,” he insisted, voice quiet too but smug at the same time, making Murdoc grit his teeth in annoyance, “I can see quite clearly what happened. She had a nightmare, didn’t she?”

Murdoc rolled his eyes at the asshole. Somehow, in some way, he always saw through every single one of them. “...Yes. Scared to sleep alone.” He tilted his head towards the desk. “Drew it out for me if you wanna see it.”

“I’m cool.” Russel glanced down at the floor, doing a quick scan of the messy room. “Hey, while you’re in here, why don’t you help her clean up this junk? I don’t even know where to step.”

Murdoc began to jolt up in protest, but stiffened when he felt Noodle shift, scared that he woke her up. Luckily she didn’t, but Russel was already on his way out the door.

“Russel!” Murdoc whisper-yelled after him, “That’s a crock of bullshit!”

“Hey man,” Russel teased, shrugging as he began to pull the door shut. “Welcome to parenthood.”

He left Murdoc with that thought to marinate in his head, the feeling moving down to his stomach where he was met with nausea again. Parenthood. He wasn’t ready for that. He had just gotten a taste of the rockstar life he’d strived for since he was a kid; he wasn’t about to give it up!

Noodle sighed in her sleep next to him, and he glanced down, involuntarily smiling at some sort of pride he was feeling. He couldn’t tell. He shifted on top of the covers, admittedly cold but not wanting to climb under the main blankets as to rob any away from Noodle. Laying his head back down on the pillow, he closed his eyes, figuring he could sleep until she woke him again.

That song he sang last night was sort of catchy. Maybe he’d look into that.

After they’d picked up the toys, of course.


End file.
